Page 97 of Hand Picked
I blinked at her, and then I blinked some more.What?
“Well! I’m off to go see my grandbabies at the petting zoo. Congratulate your mother for me on winning that commemorative scroll!”
She bustled off, and I stared after her. My mother? How would my mother have won a commemorative scroll?
“Luke?” Aiden tugged on my shirt worriedly, recalling my attention to him. “Are you and Dad really not gonna blow the bugle?”
I winced. “You know we’re not,” I said softly. “Your dad told you it was all a big misunderstanding. And then the other day, when you came home from the campout and your mom asked, he told you again—” I broke off as I saw a familiar woman in a hot pink T-shirt standing by one of the booths toward the end of the row. “Aiden, didn’t you say your mom couldn’t make it?”
“Yeah. She has mandatory work time,” he said impatiently. “I’m gonna tell her all about it later. But you and Dad… you finished almost all the steps on the scroll—”
Right. “We didn’t mean to get handfasted,” I reminded him, “and we haven’t set out to complete those steps intentionally. For example, you know we didn’tchooseto get our hands tied together, did we?” I raised an eyebrow. “We were helping you practice your knots.”
“Well, yeah, but you were together all the time. And Dad kissed you alot. And you make him laugh,” he accused.
“I know. I know we did. And I’m sorry we confused you. But—”
“Do you love my dad?” he interrupted, point-blank, staring me down with a serious look in those Sunday green eyes, cutting to the heart of the matter.
I swallowed hard, my heart beating way too fast. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, lie about this. “I do, yeah. And I… I think he cares about me, too. Getting married for real, though… it takes more than just caring about someone. You remember me talking about how your dad gets into his protective mode?” I reprised my robot dance from the other night.
Liz Avery wolf whistled from the Hollow Fire and Rescue tent and called, “You gonna show off those moves in the talent show later, Mr. Williams?”
Good Lord. “Not this year, Liz. Still perfecting them,” I called back.
I hurried Aiden back toward the Pick-a-Book tent. “What I’m trying to say is, your dad’s got lots of worries on his mind that are more important than our handfasting. He’s not ready to be married. So no,” I said, fighting not to let my own unreasonable disappointment bleed into my words. “No bugle blowing. But we’re still friends! And we’ll just… take things slow and see how it goes.”
“But what if he never decides he’s ready? Why does it have to be this hard? Wouldn’t it be better if you just—”
“Aiden, listen to me.” I crouched down next to my booth so I could get on his level. “I promise you this much: I love you, always. You can always call me Luke, when we’re not in class. You can always talk to me if you need a friend, and I will always help you with your craft projects and your Nature Scouts badges. I’m right next door. Whatever else changes, that won’t. I’m going to be there for you, no matter what, okay?”
His little mouth twisted in disappointment, but he nodded. I ruffled his hair before pulling him in for a quick hug.
“I’m going to be there for you, too,” he whispered.
Honestly. He was the most adorable child alive.
“Thank you,” I said solemnly. “Now. How about if we wash down those donuts with a smoothie from the—”
I broke off as the same pink T-shirt appeared and then disappeared into the crowd again. It was Amanda, I was almost positive. Why hadn’t she come over to say hi?
“Mr. Williams!” Principal Oliver’s strident voice always made me feel like I was a student getting called into her office for something. “Finally. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I couldn’t see how that was true. I’d hardly been hiding.
I stood up and laid a protective hand on Aiden’s shoulder. “Good morning, Principal Oliver. Are you enjoying the, uh… the fair?”
Unlike the rest of the folks in town, who were wearing jeans and T-shirts or even shorts, Principal Oliver was dressed in the same pantsuit combo she wore to work, right down to her shiny, sensible black flats. Her blonde, chin-length bob did not move in the breeze. I wasn’t sure she understood the concept of enjoyment.
“I might have enjoyed it,” she barked, “if people could do their jobs appropriately. Two of the three parent volunteers who were supposed to be running the splash bucket booth have gotten delayed due to a minor stampede over at the petting zoo. I need you.”
“You… need me for what?”
“I need you… to come with me… to the splash bucket,” she said insultingly slowly, pointing to the PTA booth like I was being obtuse.
“To… sell tickets?” I asked hopefully.
She threw back her head and brayed like a donkey. It took me a second to realize the rusty sound was her laughter. “Oh, no, Mr. Williams. You’ll be sitting under the bucket.”
